


The Hours Inbetween

by GhostScript



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Gen, Insomnia, Late Night Chats, brief reference to the Star Wars Holiday Special, drunk pilots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 15:13:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5875705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostScript/pseuds/GhostScript
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leia has had trouble sleeping, and likes to take night walks to clear her head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hours Inbetween

**Author's Note:**

> Events following TFA. I like the idea that Leia and Poe grew close (non sexual) when Han started going on extended trips.  
> Really though, who wouldn't get close to Poe? Amrite?

Leia Organa had barely slept a wink since Han died. _Her_ Han... Despite being separated for years, she felt hollowed out, like even the air itself had been taken from her body leaving a vacuum like the space that surrounded them. The stars inside were her brittle bones that longed for one more embrace from his clumsy arms. The way he’d laugh from his chest and his breath would tickle her earlobes.

She sighed deep, wiping the fresh tears from the crease of her tired face. It would be morning soon enough and she would put back on her own facade, the one of an unfettered and determined General, not a grieving old widow.

Her mask, unlike her son’s, would not devour her. She must keep the momentum, the worst was yet to come, that she could feel. She needed her brother, but that was selfish of her. Rey needed Luke so much more, and the galaxy needed Rey to be prepared.

She caught the clock in the corner of her eye as she turned the hall towards the common rooms, grimacing that it was only half past three A.M.

The base was so quiet in the twilight hours, but she didn't find it eerie. The walks around the empty rooms were the only thing that calmed her anxious brain.

One could almost convince themselves that if everyone just stayed in their damn beds there would finally be peace.

So far no one had even noticed her wandering around the base alone the last couple weeks, in her dark blue silk pajama set and robe.

The robe was a gift from Chewbacca's wife Malla, and the belt was too long and the ends caught the ground if she didn't tie it in a bow at her waist.

As she reached the end of the corridor she saw a dull yellow light peaking out of a barely cracked door marked MESS HALL in big brass letters. There were identical kitchenette-common rooms throughout for the resistance fighters, but it was easy to tell which floor housed the pilots.They came out of those cockpits full of more adrenaline than they knew what to do with; a mixture of exuberance for being victoriously alive and frustration and sad rage for their fallen comrades. 

There were more than a few tell-tale dents in that door. Sometimes, on a good night, you could hear their intoxicated singing... usually just before the arm wrestling and boasting, and foolish competitions.

The only time she felt the need to intervene was when there was a bet going around that involved shaving Major Ematt's beard.

Stepping closer into the room she heard rustling and a muffled man's groan, followed by the sound of a bottle falling on its side and listlessly circling the hard floor. She smirked ever so slightly at the pair of bare feet protruding out from under the table, and crooned her gaze to the spot of floor underneath.

She followed the legs up to a familiar face seemingly glued to the cold tile.

“Ahem,” she cleared her throat dramatically, slapping her hands on her hips and nudging the thigh of a very drunk sprawled out pilot with the toe of her slipper. “Still having nightmares I take it, Dameron?”

Poe Dameron’s eyes were closed but he managed to raise an eyebrow in the direction of her voice, “Whooose askin'?” he slurred.

Leia nudged him harder the second time, “Sit up pilot, and that’s an order.”

"Ahhh shit, Leia is that you?"

She laughed, kneeling down to help him get upright, and braced against the wall. She had told him more than once about the counselor on staff for P.T.S.D but he refused to listen, often ending up in the same spot or in the beds of whomever he briefly thought would be distracting. His charm was a blessing and a curse, even now, disheveled in his threadbare tank top, and stinking of sweat and jet fuel, all he had to do was look at her with his big brown eyes and smug grin and she’d drop the subject.

She ran her fingers through his mess of hair and he smiled and swatted away her delicate hands. “Itsh fine. I’m fiiiiiiine” he teased, biting his bottom lip as he returned her smirk.

Leia shook her head and told him to scoot so she could wriggle a seat beside him. She picked up the bottle he'd let slip from his fingers and frowned, eyeballing the label and the dark brown sludge inside. “What is this, Trandoshan whiskey?! No one had better light a match near this wing.”

“It’s multi purposh!" he pointed defiantly at nothing in particular, "Works like a fuckin’ dream to clean build up off my cooling vents.”

"Your...?"

"X-Wing. Not a you-pha-sism."

"Euphemism." She corrected, taking a swig of the whiskey and wincing as it went down, “Whoah man you weren’t kidding! Yesh! My cooling vents are cuh-lean.”

Poe nodded, reaching for the bottle.

“Ohhhhh no," she jerked her hand away, " _You_ have had enough young man.”

He pouted but surrendered, struggling to lift his eyelids more than a slit. Leia took smaller pungent sips the next few times until her mouth burned enough that the taste was no longer effective. When she felt brave enough to take a large glug, Poe dropped his heavy head to her shoulder and playfully whispered, “It’s O-K, I give you full permission to take advantage of me. Don’t think I don’t think you’re foxy,” which caused her to spit out the mouthful across the room and down the front of her top.

“You are the best _flirt_ in the resistance!”

She put her free arm around his shoulder and hugged, and he nestled his chin into the crook of her neck. It felt good to be near his radiation. He was the closest thing to family she had near, and his stubble felt comforting against her skin.

"You can't sleep either, huh?"

"Nope." She admitted.

They sat quietly together for a few minutes, just breathing. She thought she felt him look up at her, but only for a second. She sensed that he was holding something back, like a single thought he was unsure how to say.

She gingerly stroked his hair, sinking into the surface of his mind ever so gently. In her weakness to see her son after Poe's return from Jakku, she’d already made the mistake of allowing herself in unrestrained. What she got was a rush of pain, and a flood his torture at the hands of the Vader bloodline, and that distorted metal face. It glared at her, a tormented casket. 

Not this time, she assured herself finding the thought drifting just behind his tongue:

_Your son still loves you.  
_

Leia realized she'd been holding her breath and exhaled slowly. There _was_ still hope... There had to be. What she had been forgetting is that despite the loss, there was always still the good to balance it out. She must hold onto that, with all of her might.

She was exhausted, and tipsy, and her own thoughts wandered aimlessly, from sweet and sour memories of her husband-better times when Ben was just a baby- to the remarkable stormtrooper who defected and risked everything to save strangers, who was on the other end of the base still recovering in the clinic, and again to Rey and all the things she would soon learn, until the images began to blur and she felt herself drifting off to sleep.

Of course she can finally sleep when she's supposed to be preparing a tactics debriefing, not eight hours ago when she flipped her pillow a million times and still couldn't get comfortable.

Poe had begun to snore like a Bantha. She yawned herself back to semblance, pushing him back awake as well. “Hey, who’s quarters am I dropping you off at? There’s an officer’s meeting in three hours and I need you sober.”

“Yours?”

“Try again.”

“Pava’s…” Poe swallowed a breath, suddenly struggling to hold back laughter.

"What?"

“She wants to bang the shit out of Rey.”

Leia blushed, “Oh what the fuck! Don’t tell me these things Dameron! You don’t think I have enough on my plate, I gotta start blocking your teams raging hormones?!"

They kept laughing as they helped each other to their feet, staying linked at the arm all the way to the barracks. Jessika Pava was a light sleeper and answered on the first knock, jumping to attention when she saw it was the General herself at the door, only slightly embarrassed to be standing at attention to the Princess in her tiny shorts and a t-shirt, “Ma'am... Uhm...permission to... I mean, what he do this time?”

“At ease, Pava. Just drown him in strong coffee for me, would ya.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Oh, and whatever scheme you have involving Rey, forget it," she winked.

“Uh, yes Ma’am, but no uhh… I mean I don’t know what you are referring to Ma’am.”

Leia squinted at her, gesturing with her hands that her eyes were everywhere. She probably looked serious, though once her back was turned she released her face back to a soft smile as she could hear Jessika slapping Poe and the words ‘I can’t believe you told her’ echoing behind. 

**Maybe** , she thought again, _maybe put the war on hold and test her bed theory_. Back in her own quarters she sent a message to delay the meeting by an hour and postpone the tactics seminar until Luke arrived the following day.

Leia crawled under the covers, let her braids unfurl around her neck, and fell fast asleep.


End file.
